


Ride the Coattails

by idealizedhopeless (crucialcomatose)



Category: Knives Out (2019), Original Work
Genre: Angst, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, Do Not, Explicit Smut, F/M, Fingering, Hate Sex, Is that a thing, Less Explicit Smut, Porn With Plot, Ransom Drysdale Being an Asshole, Revenge sex?, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Sex, but so does ‘the help’, heavy smut at beginning, if you’re reading this for the plot, just implied, kinda slow y’know, like it starts kinda fast, lowkey dub con does happen! beware., prey kink, privileged assholes get what they want, ransom sucks lowkey but maybe highkey, slight dub con, sometimes there is no explicit consent, “public” sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22045501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crucialcomatose/pseuds/idealizedhopeless
Summary: Hugh Ransom Drysdale was a man with the world in his hands. Privilege was tatted across his chest. Had never and probably never will work a day in his life. Treats the help like utter shit.Aida knew all that. That’s what attracted her to him so goddamn much.But, something about her threw him for a loop.Aida was something he knew he wanted.Something he knew he had to have.
Relationships: Hugh “Ransom” Drysdale/Original Character, Ransom Drysdale/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 99





	1. The Hunt and The Chase

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hate Your Guts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21901363) by [khalisey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/khalisey/pseuds/khalisey). 



> this was inspired by “Hate Your Guts” by khalisey! go check it out if you’re interested, it’s a short lil one shot and i really wanted to try out making it into a whole story. i’ve seen knives out too many times for my own good (seven) and i wanna bring some more depth to the character in this way cause i think this is by far one of chris evans best roles. hope you enjoy!

Hugh Ransom Drysdale. 

He was an immovable object, at the very least. One of those entitled rich boys, riding off the back of inheritance and privilege, stepping on the coattails, turning them to shambles. 

He was interesting; an asshole, one with a devilish smirk and a fat checkbook, one who disheveled sweaters from Neiman Marcus on a whim; he’d buy another in a month or so. Aida always had a weird, raw sort of attraction to him. Seeing a man like that, throwing around money like that, dressing like that, holding all that raw  _power_ turned her on. She knew, knew damn well, Ransom was dangerous from the moment she set her eyes on him at one of Harlan’s dinner parties—walking around, taking plates and checking up on the wellbeing of Mr. Thrombey’s family. 

Ransom laid eyes on her and his gaze lingered as he handed over a plate, letting the tip of his tongue wet the corners of his mouth. They made eye contact. He let a sly smile creep up on his face; never had seen this maid before in his grandfather’s home. His mouth parted to speak, but before the words formed on his tongue, she was turning the corner to the kitchen. 

Intrigue. He was one for the hunt, the chase—he saw Aida as one to sink his teeth into, new territory he was begging to cross, to mark. So, he excused himself and headed off to the kitchen. 

“You’re new.” Aida turned around to meet him and stepped back slightly. He was so close to her.  _Already._

She peered her eyes up at him after taking a glance at his stature. “I am. Harlan hired me about a month ago. Told me to watch out for his grandson ‘Ransom.’ You look like a ‘Ransom.’” She refused to bite her tongue, hold back any of the thoughts pressing her mind. It was true; Harlan had told her about his grandson, multiple times—the good, the bad, and the ugly. There wasn’t that much good. 

_“And this is...?” Aida grabbed a picture from Harlan’s mantle and pointed out a young, attractive man. One who looked like he knew the world was in the palm of his hands. He was wearing a white cable-knit sweater and some tan coat—probably suede with a cashmere interior, if that was a thing—standing next to Harlan’s daughter and her husband, Richard._

_“Ah. That’s Ransom, my daughter’s son. Never worked a day in his life. I swear, this family’s gonna suck the life outta me.” He sat down slowly in his chair and leaned back._

_ “Oh, come on, Harlan. He can’t be  that bad.” He shined a weak smile at her.  _

_“He can beat me at Go sometimes. But Marta’s better.”_

A smile crept across his face before he spoke again. “Call me  _Hugh_ , babe. Ransom’s my middle name.” She remembered what Marta told her. 

_“He makes ‘the help’ call him ‘Hugh.’ ‘Cause he’s an asshole.”_

“Right. And you can call me Aida. I don’t play baseball and my last name isn’t Ruth.” She smiled back. He licked his lips. 

“Stop terrorizing her before she quits, Ransom,” Meg set down her plate in the sink. “Grandad just hired her.” 

“Mmm. Good to know. How’s that SJW degree coming, Meg?” 

“Trustfund prick,” Meg said before exiting the room, giving Ransom one last glare. Aida laughed lightly at her comment and went to work on the dishes. 

“I wonder why he chose you.” 

“I dunno. Maybe to spite you. Since you’re so curious.” 

Aida was quick on her feet, maybe a little too quick. Ransom found himself even more interested than before. Too interested. He could only envision forcing her head down on the counter, flipping up her short, short,  _short_ skirt past her hips and giving it to her hard. _Unforgivingly_. Teach her a lesson for being so wordy, talking back to a man far superior to her. 

Aida thought about it, too. Especially that night when she got home and sunk her fingers deep into her heat, letting his name roll off her tongue like a sinful holy prayer when she came, slick on her fingers, the name “Ransom” on her lips. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so weird that Ransom started coming around more. Turned his every-other-monthly visits to Harlan into monthly ones, then bimonthly ones. Harlan was old; an 80-something year old man.  Who knows how much time he has left with his grandson?  Yet, it was only after that fateful first encounter with her that Ransom decided to change his ways.

After that day, whenever Aida would roll around, Ransom couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He liked seeing her get shy at his quips; she’d turn away all defeated when she didn’t have the perfect response. It was rare that he’d humiliate her in front of his family, but when he did, it made her stomach flutter. She’d never admit it, but it turned her on. Not nearly as much as it turned Ransom on, though. Reddened cheeks, fingers picking at her sleeves, teeth nibbling on the inside of her lip. He had to have her. 

* * *

”...And that’s why Meg doesn’t get any action,” Ransom says, crossing his ankle over his thigh. Jacob and Walt start laughing as Meg shifts uncomfortably in her seat. Ransom peers over at Aida, who looks down at her feet and picks at her sleeves. 

“Oh, come on Ransom,” Joni starts.

“It’s just a joke, Mom. I’m fine.” 

The conversation dies down as Aida heads off into Harlan’s study. Ransom watches as she peels away from the family and follows behind soon afterwards. 

“Ran— _Hugh_ , sorry, why did you follow me?” 

He’s one for the hunt, the chase. 

And Aida is his prey.

He takes a glance at her skirt again, fabric just reaching below the curve of her ass, right above her mid thigh. It’s almost like she wore it just for him, just be ogled by him when she’s in his presence. 

“Curious, I guess.” 

“About what?” She turns to fully face him, smoothing down her skirt in the front. He watches her hands carefully, preparing to finally sink his teeth in, get a taste of what he’s been waiting for. 

“You’ve been thinking about me.” 

Aida swallows roughly and starts picking at her sweater once again. 

“You are so fuckin’ weird, _Hugh._ What is that even supposed to mean?” He starts walking over to her, until the distance between them is minimal. 

“You’re usually so smart. Don’t play dumb now.” He furrows his brows and looks down at her, letting a smile turn up the corners of his lips. Aida stays silent and studies his face, letting her eyes curiously scan his. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“How often do you wish it were me?” His voice drops to a whisper. “My fingers fillin’ and fuckin’ into you?” He stalks closer as Aida backs up, effectively running into one of Harlan’s bookcases. 

“I—” Thoughts ram into each other like blind flies in her head. How could he so easily see through her facade? They barely even spoke every time they’d seen each other—sure, Ransom never gave up his teasing, it gave him some sick kind of arousal that he was positive he wasn’t giving up any time soon. And, sure, his hand lingered on hers for a bit longer when he’d hand over a plate. He’d eye her up and down like a starving wolf at a feast with her little skirts and Aida would always notice. Sometimes she’d dress in a way she was sure he’d take note of. But, surely, that couldn’t have been enough. 

“I—” _It’s just some sick fantasy, Aida. Get over it._

“God, I wanna flip your fuckin’ skirt up, let you fuckin’ have it.” Aida swears she sees his eyes darken as he speaks. His jaw tightens while his fingers dance on the hem of her skirt, eyes watching as her chest rises up and down rapidly. That smile creeps back on his face as he watches what he does to her; knowing his faint touches and lingering glances leave her with inappropriate thoughts about him drives him up the wall.

“Let me have it, then.” He lets his teeth roll over his bottom lip before his hands gracefully graze her thighs underneath her skirt. She relishes in the warmth of his hands and their sheer size as they make their way to grip her ass roughly, fingernails grazing over her skin lightly. His hand slides back to the front, letting a finger drag lightly over her damp entrance. A shaky breath leaves her mouth and she silently curses herself for enjoying this so much. Imagine what this would do for the already inflated ego of some trust-funded playboy. 

“Barely touched you, and look how wet you are.” Aida feels her core burn, legs almost giving out at the sheer thought of Ransom—No, _Hugh_ —letting his fingers slide inside of her, stroke her slowly. He slides her panties to the side and rubs his thumb over her entrance, gathering the wetness there and rubbing the bundle of nerves between her legs teasingly. Stuttered breaths disperse against the air and Aida feels her contempt for Ransom grow; how dare he saunter in here all high and mighty, tell her what she wants from him? 

“Just say it,” Ransom leans down to her ear and lets his breath caress the side of her face. “Tell me how fuckin’ bad you need it.” 

“I need it, Hugh—“ She feels fucking dirty, but she likes it, relishes in it. Letting someone like that use her and break down her walls so easily.

He slides two fingers inside of her tantalizingly and smiles down at her face contorting in pleasure. Already, he’s sunk his teeth in. 

“God _dammit_ , Hugh, please—I— ” He chuckles deeply into her, using his free hand to sweep her hair behind her neck. He peppers light kisses across her jaw, letting his fingers fuck in and out of her with smooth strokes. 

“Family’s right in the other room. You wouldn’t wanna give us away, now would you, babe?” She feels that tide approaching, the coil in her stomach tightening with every aching stroke of his thick fingers. 

”Aida? Could you get me a cup of coffee? I’m starting to get a little tired.” Too distracted, Aida can’t tell who says it. Footsteps start to approach and Aida feels her heart fall out of her chest. 

”Fuckfuckfuck, Hugh, someone’s coming—“ 

“Yeah, someone’s coming, alright.” He doesn’t let up, rather, he places a hand over her mouth and fucks her harder, letting his fingers brutally massage her walls, knuckle deep in her quivering pussy. Her walls tighten around him, footsteps still steadily approaching them while he nears her even closer to that edge before she tumbles off, gripping his arm roughly underneath the pads of her fingers. Muffled cries play a sick, twisted melody in Ransom’s ears while she lets go, holding on to him for dear life, letting her legs damn near give out under her weight. 

She feels empty as his fingers slide out and he laps up her juices cautiously, savoring the perverted flavor of her. He’s got a taste.

Ransom, in true gentleman style, fixes her panties and smooths down her skirt before taking a step back from her and smoothing his own clothing. “We gotta do this more often,” he whispers, letting a sly smirk spread across his face.

“Aida? Ah, there you are.” Richard stands in the wide doorway, observing the two standing mere inches apart. “Ransom, too.” Ransom takes one last look at her before sauntering away past his father to rejoin the family.

“Harlan wants a cup of coffee.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out my other story “Irresistible Confrontation” if you wanna read some more similar smut. leave a comment if you enjoyed, and leave me a kudos if you enjoyed! thanks for reading :$


	2. Down In the Study

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ransom and Aida get down and dirty in the study. wham bam thank you ma’am

After Aida retrieves Harlan’s cup of coffee, she sets it down on the table next to him. 

“Sorry it took so long.” 

She wondered what would happen to her job if Harlan had found out what just happened between her and someone from his family. His fucking grandson, for godsake. Right in his own home. Right when he was in the room next door.

But, Ransom— _Hugh_ —did this to _her_. Surely it wasn’t completely her fault? Or, had Hugh done it so she could get fired? He didn’t seem anything short of the type to torment those he deemed underneath him. That wouldn’t explain why he would do something like _that,_ however. 

She couldn’t say she was completely innocent. They knew this was coming. Hugh knew; he always got what he wanted, even if he had to take it. Aida knew, too. Hugh wasn’t one to hide his advances, even if his advances were in the form of brutal teasing or downright rudeness. And, now that she’s thinking about it, she can’t get that stupid comment he made out of her head. 

_His eyes lingered over her skirt again. Hunger seared the pit of his stomach. “It’s_ really _short today.” She turned around and furrowed her eyebrows at him. Her patience was growing thinner and thinner by the second, tired of always seeing Ransom standing, no,_ hovering _around her when he comes over. Always wanted to get some type of rise out of her, irritate or embarrass her on her lonesome or in front of his family._

_“What? My patience for you, or my skirt again?”_

_“Seems like you need someone to take it off of you, Babe Ruth.” That stupid smile crept across his face again. Her cheeks reddened, fingers messed with the hem of her sweater. He knew how to play her. And she knew he knew. She damn near relished in it._

Maybe she should’ve known then. All she did after that day was make sure her skirts stood out when he was around. Just to give him something to comment on. 

Before the party ends, Aida makes a note of speaking to Ransom one last time. As the family begin to usher out of the living room and into the foyer, Aida grabs Ransom by the arm.

“You’re going to get me fired—”

“Only if you don’t keep your mouth shut.”

* * *

“Do you have everything together for the dinner party tonight? Need any help?” Harlan closes his laptop and slides his glasses off his face.

“Harlan, we work for you. Relax,” Fran responds. 

“Yeah, everything’s gonna go fine. We got it down at this point.” 

“Ransom’s been showing up to a lot more. Linda and Richard are here all the time, but that boy... That boy rarely comes around. Only when he wants to get back in my good graces. I wonder why.” 

Clearly, Ransom’s increased attendance hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

Aida cursed herself for beginning to look forward to the dinner parties; she’d get paid extra on the nights they occurred, and, more importantly, she’d get the chance to snap back at Ransom’s demeaning quips whenever she was quick enough. She tried to push the thoughts of what he did to her last time out of head. Going home that night to sink her own fingers inside of her only infuriated her; they were nowhere near as thick as his, and she had no business fantasizing about a man that was _that_ much of an asshole. 

Walt’s family shows up first, as per usual. As they walk through the door, they slide off their coats and Aida hangs them up in the closet in the foyer. Later, everyone else ushers in, and Aida is surprised to see Ransom roughly 30 minutes earlier than he usually is. 

“Look, I’m not playing this game with you.”

“Yeah? What game are we playin’ sweetheart?” 

“Still not my name.” 

“I’ve never heard of that game.” That stupid fucking smirk makes its way across his face again. “Care to explain it to me?” 

“What are you two arguing about?” Joni looks at Aida, then at Ransom. 

“Why Ransom’s all of a sudden early to one of Harlan’s dinner parties.” Aida smiles at Joni, them at Ransom. Joni furrows her brows, then walks away. 

Surely, they can’t continue this conversation here, right in front of the whole family. 

“In the study. 30 minutes.” 

* * *

The bookcase rattles as he flips her around. She can feel him pressing into her ass, while she rolls her hips back into his. 

“Fuck, Aida,” he exhales, bracing himself against her hips in his hands. She pushes her hips back into him again and he grunts quietly, strengthening his grip before he ruts forward, giving himself more friction against her. Aida holds onto one of the ledges before she rolls her hips again, starting up a rhythm against his swollen bulge. He meets her attempts hungrily, moving his hips in tandem with hers, letting himself get harder against her ass. 

His fingers work on her thighs, nails dragging against her skin cautiously, flipping her skirt above her ass and bunching it around her waist. He slides his hands to the front of her body. 

“Ransom—”

“Hm. Just can’t get that name right.” He steadily grinds up against her, letting his fingers dip down between her thighs, which she spreads a bit wider.

“I’m serious. I need this job—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He grips her hips before leaning down to plant wet kisses on her neck. He sucks lightly on the sensitive skin, before nibbling on her earlobe.

“You need the job,” _kiss_ , “but you wanna fuck me,” _kiss_ , “‘cause I mean,” _kiss_ , “who wouldn’t,” _kiss_ , “so we gotta,” _kiss_ , “keep it a secret,” _kiss._

Pretentious. Irreverent. Yet, impossibly compelling.

Yanking her hips closer to him, he feels her settle against his body before his fingers trace over the wetness pooling in her panties. “Seems like you want it.”

“Just... give it to me, Hugh.” The words fall out of her mouth before she’s consciously aware of what she’s saying. He leans back down, sweeping her hair out of the way of her neck. Ghastly kisses pepper her skin while he makes his way up to her earlobe. His teeth graze her sensitive skin, slowly, dangerously, while his free hand slides down to her sopping cunt. Hugh slides her panties to the side, letting his fingers gather the embarrassing amount of wetness at her entrance. He coats her pussy with her slick, stroking her clit carefully while she whimpers quietly, hips jittering against his. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “I like you like this,” he pauses, sliding those fingers back down to her entrance, pressing one a tad bit deeper than before. “All defenseless. Nothing to say. Just _needy_ for me.” She nods her head like a rag doll, trying her best with futile attempts to get him to slide the finger deeper, stroke her g-spot, fill up her anticipating cunt. But, he won’t. Not just yet—it’s too early; he hasn’t gotten enough teasing out of her yet. 

Ransom slides the finger away and instead starts dry humping her again. 

“You want me, yeah? Don’t even care if my family’s right in the other room?” She nods her head again, letting her hips meet his, hands tightening against the bookshelf. He’s hard as a fucking rock; she knows. She can feel him even more now as his swollen cock presses into her wetness with every aching thrust. 

“You want me right here,” he slides a hand down her stomach, fingers dancing on the waistband of her panties, “Right in my grandfather’s study? Your skirt ‘round your waist, panties pulled to the side. You want that?” He’s taunting the shit out of her and she knows it, but, God, she can’t get enough. 

“Yes, fuck, Hugh, please—” He pulls her panties to the side, just as promised. She can hear him behind her undoing his belt and unzipping his zipper before the head of his cock presses against her entrance. The pit of her stomach burns incessantly, chest rising up and down with her stuttered breathing. He grabs himself and strokes cautiously, eyeing her up and down; hips sticking out from the wall, skirt bunched around her waist, legs spread apart, wet spot on her panties pushed to the side, glistening cunt and all. It’s a tempting sight; one he has to stop himself from devouring instantly—he knows he wants to savor this, make her one of his grand conquests, a cunt he make his own: one he’ll have a hell of a time forgetting.

Teasing her folds with his thickness, Ransom lets the head of his cock spread her wetness over her clit. He loops an arm around her waist and forces her forward a bit closer to the bookcase before holding her steady with one hand on her ass, the other still stroking himself. He presses the head back against her entrance before slowing himself inside, letting every inch be engulfed by her tight, tantalizing pussy. The noise that leaves her throat is inhuman; some garbled, choked up noise that scrapes against her vocal chords before settling in the air around them. Ransom’s nails dig into her ass before he hunches over her, burying himself to the hilt inside of her. 

Growls, moans, and groans clear the silence in the room as she adjusts and he lets her, feeling her walls conform to the utter intensity of his cock. 

“You’re such a slut for me.” He slides back out of her, only to fill her up faster than before. “You act so high ‘n mighty when I roll around—“ Another thrust, faster than the last. “—But here you are, lettin’ me fuck you like this.” He slides out completely and all Aida can do is whine and whimper for him to fill her again, drive her to an orgasm, give her what she’s been touching herself to for the past few months. 

He adjusts himself before sliding into her heat, letting his impatient id take control of his actions while he relishes in the feeling of her walls wrapping back around his cock. She feels utterly full again; he’s just about buried to the hilt, looking down at the last few inches of his length sliding into her drenched cunt. His fingers dig into her hips before sliding out, only to slam back into her, letting his hips snap against hers, fucking her deep into utter bliss. 

His thrusts are harsh and rough, each movement more animalistic and desperate than the last. The bookcase rattles with every brutal stroke of his cock, not unlike the useless moans and whimpers that make their way past Aida’s throat. 

”Harder—just, just hurt me, please, Hugh—” Aida chokes out, letting her nails dig into Ransom’s back through this sweater. The stretch of his cock leaves her cunt burning and she knows she’s intoxicated by the feeling, drunk off of his power—There’s a reason men, rather, privileged assholes, like this always have a woman on their arm. Her fingers feel like they’re going to snap in to two if she squeezes the bookshelf any harder.

Every brutal thrust makes the bookcase rattle more and more, until a book falls from the top shelf. 

“What the hell was that?” Ransom stops abruptly.

“Sounded like something fell.” 

“Someone check the study.” 

“Aida? Was that you or Fran?” 

“Um, yeah! Sorry I—“ Aida feels Ransom start back up again, meeting his hips with hers with a desperate abandon about the situation. “I was cleaning, I dropped something. I’m fine—No—No, worries!” The coil in her stomach began to tighten just as the bookcase began to rattle again. Ransom could feel her walls clinging to every inch of him, contracting around his length. As she nears the edge of her release, so does he; his thrusts become erratic and his grunting turns to deep, uninhibited growling. 

“Please, Hugh, give it to me...” She sounds pathetic, hopeless: lost in the haze of pure, unadulterated lust. 

“Yeah? You gonna come on my cock?” 

“Yea, I’m gonna come, please, please—” Aida falls off the edge, letting her orgasm flow through her veins. The pleasure almost hurts; too intense for her, unlike anything she’d ever felt before. She swears she can see fucking stars as she comes down, unable to control the spasming of her cunt on Ransom’s cock. 

Tears stream down Aida’s face from overstimulation as her cunt begs her for a break from the brutish pounding from the man behind her. If only he could see her face like this. He’d fall apart. 

“You on birth control?” Almost too fucked out to hear his question, Aida nods uselessly. With a few final barbaric thrusts, Ransom lets himself go, spilling deep inside of her and filling her with his warm and sticky cum. 

They’re both left a panting, sweaty mess as Ransom empties her, sliding himself out of her warm cunt and tucking himself back into his slacks. Taking one last look at her messy slit, he fixes her panties and her skirt and flips her back around on the bookshelf. 

“I’m coming over in a few days. No dinner party or anything.” He pauses, eyes darkening at her facial expression; all fucked out from what he did to her, eyes hooded and mouth slightly parted. “And I‘m gonna have you, right there, on top of Harlan’s desk. You got that, sweetheart?” 

Something sears the pit of her stomach. She’s not sure if it’s his words, his tone, his ignorance toward using her actual name, or his appearance. It’s probably all of it.

She doesn’t know how to respond, so she settles for a simple, “Okay.” 

Ransom walks away, world in his palm like always, just as Aida wonders what she’s truly just started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a kudos and comment if you enjoyed! i’d love to hear some feedback, things you like, things you wanna see etc.  
> thanks for reading :7


	3. Motivations

When Aida shows up to work those few days later, she goes about her normal duties until Harlan summons her and Fran into his study.

“The family's coming at 8 pm. Can you two set up some things in the living room? Call a catering company, see if things work out last minute?” Ransom had mentioned a gathering, but he specifically stated that it wouldn't be a dinner party. 

”Sure, no problem, Harlan.” Fran turns on her heels and Aida follows, taking note of Harlan’s warm smile before she leaves. 

“What was that about?” Aida asks, trailing Fran to the kitchen to pull down some plates and silverware. 

“I heard him last night on the phone. Apparently, the whole thing was Ransom’s idea. Which, as you know, never happens. But it explains the last minuteness of the ordeal. He probably just wants some more money.” She rolls her eyes and begins handing off plates to Aida, who begins to stack them on the counter. 

_ Ransom’s idea? _ He wasn't unlike some type of animal: brutish, rash, disdainful. He was probably just setting a trap for something awful to happen.

It's 10 am. That should be plenty enough time to pull something together for a party. 

Richard shows up first at 6 pm to help the caterers set up for the event. Some yelling is overheard in Harlan's office, but Fran and Aida brush it off. Probably just some marriage troubles: Harlan being worried about the well being of his daughter.

After about an hour and a half, everything is set up and ready to go for 8 pm. 

* * *

"Son, can't you be respectful for one fucking minute? Will that kill you?" Richard's temper near reaches a boiling point. 

"It might, _Father,_ " Ransom responds flatly, taking another sip from the glass in his hands, crossing his ankle over his knee. He settles back into his chair, hand placed near his mouth, the other hanging to the side with the glass loosely draping from his fingers. Harlan stands up, barely dismissing himself as he walks away. 

"You really expect _him_ , no, _that,_ to be respectful? Be realistic," Meg chimes in, sitting down on the armrest next to her mom.

Aida trails by, picking up any dirty dishes in the room before exiting. She can feel Ransom's eyes on her, following her movements as she walks away, making one half-assed attempt to make it seem like he's not staring directly at her ass. Linda catches his lingering glance and scoffs before standing up hastily. "Ransom, really? That's what we're doing now?"

Aida listens quietly from the kitchen, despite her attempts to keep herself busy. _Stop eavesdropping._

Ransom rolls his eyes. 

"’Now?’ Hah. There's no way in hell that's the first time he's done that. He pounces on anything moving." Joni throws in her two-cents before taking a sip of wine. 

"Up your ass, Joni. You've had your teeth in this family’s tit for years now."

"’Up your ass?’ Very classy, Ransom," Meg says. His toothless smile peeks behind his glass which he lifts to his mouth. He gulps the rest of the wine down in a few swallows before placing the glass on the floor. Joni remains quiet, obviously trying to pull something together to retort. Aida leans in closer, giving up the guise of not wanting to eavesdrop on their conversation. 

"Like you'd have anything to say about mooching. You've been clutching on to Dad's coattails ever since college. Probably don't even know how to provide for yourself, you worthless little brat." Walt thinks he's got him.

"And whose books do you publish?" Give it to Ransom for staying on his toes, yet keeping a calm facade in the face of his family. If Aida didn't know better, she'd say this wasn't all for show; there’s no way this isn’t just a gimmick for Ransom to get his rocks off.

"Grow up, Ransom. When do you plan on changing for the better?" Linda says, leaning forward on her haunches, trying ditch efforts to resort to a request for humanity to nullify Ransom's brutal crusade.

"You'd barely notice if I changed; ever so busy with your company you 'built from the ground up,' Linda." He throws in a dash of air quotes around the phrase to demean her, really put her in her place.

"Don't you dare talk to your mother like that, _Hugh_."

"Remind me again, _Richard,_ how it feels to live in constant fear that your only source of income may decide to divorce you one day. How's that going for you?" _Ironic._ Aida overhears and recollects what Fran had mentioned to her earlier. _Probably just wants some more money._ That's why he stuck around. No wonder. He's never had a real job, how else would he pay for the lifestyle he takes advantage of?

Linda and Richard's faces, twisted with a twinge of anger, but mostly disappointment, do nothing to crack Ransom's attitude. If anything, they spur him on further. 

He grabs the glass from the ground and tips it upside down, watching as excess Chateau Margaux drips to the rug below, staining it with a deep burgundy-red.

"And here you go again, destroying expensive things just 'cause you can afford to buy another..." Ransom stands and heads off to the kitchen, leaving the family to start arguing among themselves rather than through him.

Aida doesn't have much time to think as footsteps approach the corner she hides behind in the kitchen. She moves briskly, dipping her hands into the lukewarm, sudsy dishwater in the sink before realizing there are no dishes to wash. Ransom's footsteps stop short behind her as he drops off the glass, letting the base of it hit the counter a little too hard. It chips.

"Oh, please, Walt. You can't talk! I built my business from the ground up..." Linda drifts off as Ransom grips Aida's arm before dragging her off to the study, leaving her wet hands dripping with the now cold water from the sink. He stays silent while she studies his face, looking for so much as an iota of compassion or care. None. Either he was good at putting on a show--which he was--or he truly didn't care about what had just happened.

"You know I'm gonna have to clean up that Chateau Margaux, right?" He chews on his lip. "Such a waste. Remember a few weeks ago when you followed me in here?" He nods his head, furrowing his brows.

"What're you gettin' at, Babe Ruth?" That stupid fucking nickname. 

"You're not very nice." 

"And? You gonna run me in for it? Careful. I'm distraught." His expression is unchanging. Aida had already formed her assumptions about him in her head. From testimonials ranging from Fran to Marta to Meg, he wasn't a good guy. But that wasn't something someone needed to tell you about him. He'd show you who he was at the drop of a dime. "They can eat shit." She's stumped on what to say. 

"I mean, who goes around looking to start fights with people? Looking to see them upset? You're kind of an ass."

"You see me checkin' out yours?" 

"Do you ever stop deflecting?"

"No, I don't." He smiles. _He would._

"Well, I'm in here. There's Harlan's desk." She regrets saying it as soon as the words leave her mouth. Now, she's given him the satisfaction. He knows she's been thinking about it, ruminating on it for the past few days. Who gives a flying fuck. 

Ransom licks his lips, then sucks his teeth. A smirk forms on his face. "You've been thinking about it, huh?" He stands behind her and encourages her to move over to the desk. When her thighs are pressed up against it, the wood feels chilly on her mostly barren thighs. She never really considered the reason _why_ he was doing this. Sure, the arguing clearly had an effect on him. So far, he's only resulted to her after a spat with his family; one that routinely made him out to be an ass. That was his way of getting off. Perverse, yes, but why fuck her in practical silence with his family in the other room? Why not take her somewhere else? Somewhere where she's able to scream his name, really give his ego a boost. Then the thought hits her.

He wants to be caught. He dodged her question of _Who goes around looking to start fights with people?_ because he wants to be an ass. He wants to show them that he is the epitome of what they say he is. Why be anything different when everyone's already made up their mind about you?

He places his legs in between hers, kicking her feet further apart until she's straddling one of the corners of Harlan's desk. He pushes her forward lightly and she falls on her hands, letting her ass stick out for Ransom to observe. 

"Hugh, what are you doing-" She pauses when his hands grip her hips and pull her flush with his body. With her ass pressed into his bulge, she feels her skin tingle and curses how easily he's getting to her already. _It's only been, like, three minutes, and already I..._ Aida's thoughts trail off when Ransom runs his nails over the backs of her thighs, letting his fingers explore further up her skirt until he finds her heat. The wet spot in her panties almost tempts him into tearing into her now, but he takes his time to get her riled up. The payoff will be so much bigger. 

He explores the inside of her thighs, listening to her wispy, strained breaths when he slides his hand up a little further, a little closer to her clit. Staying silent she thinks will help the teasing, but Ransom's more intelligent than to fall for such an obvious ploy. He runs a finger over her clit and she jumps, barely resisting the urge to squeeze her legs together for that needed friction. 

"You're so pretty like this," he starts, sliding her panties to the side to expose her cunt, but purposefully avoiding giving her any friction. He observes her silently while he runs his hand over the swollen bulge in his slacks. Reaching a hand out, he spreads the wetness at her entrance around, just as she lets out a shaky moan and ruts her hips back toward his hand. 

Placing one hand on her hip, he slides two fingers inside of her patiently, listening to her soft sounds as he shallowly fills her up. Pulling the fingers back out only to thrust them back in, she lets her nails scratch at the desk, begging for something to hold on to. Aida refuses to give him the utter satisfaction of driving her wild, and keeps her sounds as silent as possible. His fingers hook inside of her. The pace of his thrusting increases, but only slightly as her hips start to rock back on his hand, begging for anything more than just this. 

She hears him undoing his belt from behind, fingers still padding lightly over her g-spot, and feels her stomach burn. _Come on, come on, come on._ The zipper is heard next.She feels him shift behind her. His fingers slip out of her and she lets go of a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. _Just do it already._

His motivation is gone. The argument in the other room has died down to a more civilized conversation: one that Harlan would likely come out of hiding to join.

Instead of moving forward, he stops, slides her panties back into place, flips her skirt back down over her ass, and fixes his slacks.

"What the fuck, Ransom?" He doesn't react to the "wrong" name being used as she stands up from her hunched position to face him. "What the fuck was that?" What she’s been doing finally hits her. Fantasizing over some douche bag, one who may have found her attractive, but one who also intended to get back at his family. Through her.

“Here.” Ransom reaches around her to grab a loose piece of paper and a pen from Harlan’s desk. He scribbles something down, folds it raggedly, and hands it over to Aida. ”For after the party ends.” 

“You’re an asshole.” 

“Yeah.” He leaves the room, and a distant hustle and bustle is heard until the front door opens and shuts, shaking the interior of the house. 

For a second, Aida doesn’t even know why she’s angry. She expected this. Well, maybe not this precisely, but Ransom would be an asshole until the day the sun starts orbiting the Earth. That was something that fueled her attraction in the first place. 

This is different. The smarmy attitude he showcased before—the same one that had turned her on—is disgusting to her now. Who treats their own family like that? Who doesn’t see the irony in their own words that much? She wants to knock him down a few pegs, bring him to a normal, human level of arrogance and facetiousness. She wants to yell at him, bite his head off for everything she’s noticed thus far. Luckily, he’d given her his address for her to do just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've noticed that i use a lot of italics.  
> leave me a comment and a kudos if you liked.  
> thanks for reading! :^


	4. Confronting the Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i overwrote, so i split these into two chapters. enjoy.

Finally, the party ends. After Fran and Aida clean up with a bit of help from Harlan, they both leave for the night. 

Aida checks the address Ransom gave her before parking in his driveway and taking one, long glance at his house. “How surprising,” she whispered to herself. Even the building looked pretentious. 

“Look who showed up.” She pushes past him in the doorway, doing her damnedest not to take in the beautiful, expensive sight of Ransom’s place. Every other surface and wall is made of glass; not unlike him. He closes the door behind them, also made of glass, and stands a comfortable distance away from her. 

“All you do is manipulate people. Didn’t even come over there today to be with Harlan. You came to argue with your family for no reason other than your own sick amusement, which totally is beyond me. You came to fuck with me, too. Telling me you were gonna ‘have’ me on Harlan’s desk." She lets out the air she was holding in. "And I fell for it because who can resist some selfish, sweater-wearing—“

”You’re talking too much.” 

“—narcissistic asshole who throws, not even his own money, but someone else’s to the wind. You don’t take care of your shit, all you do is use people—“

“Just shut up, Aida.” Stern, commanding, unwavering. All marks of the Thrombey family.

“No.” She was just getting used to the addictive feeling of the power that surged through her veins. Fuck a fashion drug, this was the high that carried her through the clouds; knocking Ransom’s incredulous ego into the ground. “You walk around getting what you want cause you always have—never mind the fact that you never fucking work for it—why should anything be different here?” He stays silent, hands still tucked in his pockets, jaw still clenched. “You don’t own me. You could have had literally anything else you wanted. Look where you fucking live. Yet, you decided that you were gonna sink your teeth into me—“

“Shut. Up.”

“What? Too much truth for some rich,” she nears closer to him, “spoiled,” and closer, “entitled,” until her finger is stabbing into the soft fabric clothing his chest, “playboy to handle?” She withdraws herself, arms relaxed against her sides with his eyes glaring down at her. His nose flares. Steam practically streams out of his nostrils. Just like those nervous ticks of hers he preyed on, the tips of his ears turn pale red. She thinks she’s finally won.

”What makes you think you can talk to me like that?” He doesn’t phrase it like a question. The words fall from his mouth like steel; frozen solid, unbending and unchanging. His tone was flat, jaw was clenched. Aida started to understand why storms were named after people; he was unmoving, but she knew a whirlwind was headed for her. 

“Did I hurt your feelings? Hit the nail on the head too hard? Damage your enormous, fragile ego?” His ego was akin to glass and she knew it. Hell, everyone did. Yet, no one figured out how to break him, topple the glass. Not until her. “You’re not gonna turn this around on me, Ransom. You don’t have as much power as you think you have. Especially not over me. You came on to me.” That was the wrong thing to say. That feeling of winning was fleeting, left her faster than a high with cocaine made from powdered sugar. She notices as his shoulders relax and the smile returns. The ire in his veins froze over when she spoke those final few words. You came on to me. 

”Hmm. You came on me ‘cause there’s something you see when you look at me.” He creeps toward her and she moves backward, trying to keep that—now that she scrutinizes it—short distance between them equal. It seemed bigger when she was "winning." Maybe she was thinking too far ahead; imagining herself in the future already distanced from Ransom's unhinged behavior. She wasn't even close. “Maybe it’s the money, maybe it’s the attitude, maybe you don’t get enough attention...” She hears a thud behind her and realizes that her feet aren’t moving anymore. He’s a storm; she knows the closer he gets, the harder it will be to get away from him. Even like this. Hell, especially like this. 

Sex and feelings aren’t mutually exclusive.

Right?

She found herself pressed—pinned—against the glass behind her. Maybe she hadn’t toppled it after all. Now, she was trapped between it and the man in front of her: a rock and a hard place.

“I could get away with murder if I wanted to. You already know that, though.” He pauses, just as she begins to notice how close his face is to hers. “You liked the feeling you got from yelling at me. I noticed.” She swallows the overwhelming amount of saliva in her mouth. “You think you shouldn’t be fucking around with me. Yet, here you are. In my house.” She’s not the only one who had it all figured out. Ransom may have appeared to be an airhead, but he surely wasn’t. “You’re not so goddamn high and mighty. I think you know it.”

She can tell he's feeding off the argument. That’s why he bit in the first place. That’s why everything with his family is a spectacle, an enormous eruption of anger and yelling and snarky comebacks. There was no winning against him. He argues for the sick feeling of it. The attention he receives is what gets him off. Why be nice, why be kind, why be a decent person, when everyone already decides you‘re none of those things? She had thought it was him faking that rash confidence and superiority complex, thought this was her chance to knock him down a few pegs, get under his skin just like he got under hers. Maybe it was him faking. But when you fake a personality trait for this long, it just becomes a part of your personality. 

“Fuck you, Ransom. I'm leaving.” If she didn't hate him before, she surely did now. Aida finds herself still under his gaze, feet and back still glued to their place when she’d thudded against the glass behind her. Ransom’s eyes still peer down at her, daring her to move from her spot. 

"Leave, then." His grin widens as he sweeps his tongue across his teeth. 

Sex and feelings aren’t mutually exclusive.

Right?

Ransom‘s positive this isn’t the hunt or the chase any longer.

It’s the kill. 

Their lips meet in an obnoxious flurry of anger and rage, hands tearing into each other just as their words did a few seconds ago. Like a spoiled child at Christmas, he rips her apart, peeling article of clothing off one after the other as if he’s mad she’s even wearing clothes in the first place.

They almost don’t make it to the bedroom before Ransom feels an insatiable hunger tinge his stomach. Almost. That hunger, the one he’s been aching to feed this whole time, came from only weeks of work, of getting Aida to fall into the trap he’s set. It only took a few dinner parties and a romp in Harlan’s study to catch her. This was the big payoff. Aida’s too busy to notice, however. 

Ransom’s got her completely naked under his gaze, clothes thrown in a disheveled pile somewhere in his house. He throws her on the bed while he strips down, sliding his tattered sweater over his head and tossing it somewhere. The belt comes off next as Aida watches his fingers work rapidly over the leather and then the brass of his zipper before his pants and briefs are discarded amid whatever else was on the floor. He meets her body on the bed, crawling on top of her before sinking himself into her and watching her face twist, rotten with sweet and devious pleasure. 

Broken cries of “please” shred her vocal cords as his haphazard strokes drive her insane, hips meeting hips, nails searing, scratching, bruising the delicate skin of his back. Their conversation before is vapid now; all that matters is that he has her and shows her precisely how much she would come to hate him. 

His is a certain raw, unmatched energy—one that could drive someone absolutely mad. His grunts and groans sound like a symphony in her ear while she clutches on to him for dear life, gritting her teeth and exhaling shaky breaths. He wants to watch her face the whole time, as to keep an eye on how much satisfaction she’s deriving from him, but at points, he can’t control himself. His hips get a little too greedy and he buries his face into the crook of her shoulder, panting elatedly on his bed sheets and whispering broken swears into her ear. Every thrust inside of her is rough, deep, and thorough; it’s the only job he has to do. He’d better be good at it. 

One orgasm after the other, he kept a lazy mental tally of how many times his name fell out of her mouth, a rather hazy mix of “Hugh”s and “Ransom”s. He didn't like to lose, so he always assured he'd be the one on top. The one always winning. Break him down to his basic components and he was just a facetious asshole with a big dick and an even bigger ego.

It was almost time Aida learned that. 

For now, though, she’d enjoy her time there, pinned underneath him, fingers twisted in and gripping the sinful black sheets adorning his bed, his name on the tip of her tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave feedback and a kudos if you're enjoying so far. i changed the tags a bit 'cause i felt like going in a different direction.   
> thanks for reading :}


End file.
